<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Of Fantasy and Taste by sagetea</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28415592">Of Fantasy and Taste</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagetea/pseuds/sagetea'>sagetea</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Uncharted (Video Games), Uncharted 4 - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Attempt at Humor, Flowers and flowery words, Gardener Sam Drake, His imagination is wild, M/M, Pining, Rafe is thirsty and lonely, Sexual Fantasy, sam is a dork, slight angst, what did i write</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:02:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,059</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28415592</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagetea/pseuds/sagetea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rafe has a problem. A problem in the shape of his goddamn gardener.</p>
<p>There is actually nothing wrong with him. He is skilled, works efficiently quick and generally doesn’t mess around. In short, Rafe has absolutely no reason to complain.</p>
<p>And yet, this man lives in Rafe’s head rent free for a reason the millionaire doesn’t dare to admit.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rafe Adler &amp; Samuel Drake, Rafe Adler/Samuel Drake</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Of Fantasy and Taste</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic has been lingering in my folder for weeks, and I kept debating if I should post it or not. :')<br/>I'll just put it here and hope you enjoy it. I had fun writing this, despite it being a bit cheesy, haha.</p>
<p>I'm still working on my other Sam x Rafe fic "Giuramento", it'll just take a while. English isn't my first language and I want the second chapter to be satisfying.</p>
<p>Hope you enjoy! :)</p>
<p>Title of this fic from the song "Flesh for Fantasy" by Billy Idol.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rafe has a problem. A problem in the shape of his goddamn gardener.</p>
<p>There is actually nothing wrong with him. He is skilled, works efficiently quick and generally doesn’t mess around. In short, Rafe has absolutely no reason to complain.</p>
<p>And yet, this man lives in Rafe’s head rent free for a reason the millionaire doesn’t dare to admit.</p>
<p>You see, Rafe is a man of fine taste. When he finds a particular person appealing, then it is because they <em>are</em> in fact appealing. Call him superficial, but when someone is aesthetically pleasing to the eye, then Rafe has no qualms about affirming it. But why does it have to be his gardener? The man lacks finesse, looks like a brute and acts so-- full of himself; like someone who <em>knows</em> perfectly well that they are attractive. </p>
<p>Rafe tries to convince himself that his own standards have dropped concerning his taste in men - admittedly, it’s been a while since he has gotten laid - but after a few months of <em>discreetly</em> ogling his gardener working on the porch of his mansion, he can’t fool himself anymore and deny that the man is truly a fine specimen, if he does so say himself.</p>
<p>He doesn’t know when exactly his attraction for the gardener has started to sprout, but in the end here he is, lusting after him like a withering flower craving for water. Rafe shouldn’t have hired him. He is a busy man. Right now isn’t the right time for his brain to be messed with by the first random man who comes along. Well, ‘random’ isn’t the right word. Honestly, being this hot should be considered a fucking criminal offense.</p>
<p>Rafe is in a dilemma, because he can’t just fire him either. The man has quite some nerve and isn’t afraid to throw playful jabs at the baffled millionaire whenever they interact. In all, this man is an impolite buffoon. But he is hard-working and at least smart enough to make the difference between a ranunculus and a rose; unlike the former gardener who truly has become way too old and forgetful. Rafe is silently relieved that he has retired. Yes, it’s sad seeing him go, but Rafe was slowly getting tired of constantly witnessing his precious flowers and spices being messed with. And the stubborn old geezer always refused any kind of help and advice.</p>
<p>Come to think of it, Rafe should probably hire some gardening assistants. His estate is huge. It’s quite the hassle when there is only one man who has to attend to the myriad of different plant species that need special care. But surprisingly enough, the new gardener seems to take this big amount of work with grace, always whistling merry tunes as he waltzes through the dahlia bushes like he owns the place. Well, as long as he doesn’t complain, Rafe will leave it at that.</p>
<p>What also certainly doesn’t help Rafe in his fruitless attempt at ignoring his increasing desire for the gardener is the fact that now the summer season has arrived. And summer means heat, which means the man has the fucking audacity to work <em>shirtless</em> amongst the flower fields, looking like a literal greek god frolicking in the lush gardens of Olympus. Rafe almost chokes on his drink as soon as his gaze lands on the man’s bare back, thick muscles rippling under glistening tanned skin as he snips at a bush with a pair of gardening scissors.</p>
<p>Rafe watches him from across the cool shelter of his terrace, mouth agape, his gin tonic almost slipping out of his lax grip. He certainly makes a comical picture, but at this moment he doesn’t care. He feels his heartbeat skyrocket as he lets his eyes roam across the gardener’s truly mouthwatering frame. He inwardly thanks the universe for him wearing sunglasses, otherwise he’s sure the gardener would have caught on his not-so-subtle staring. God, this is getting embarrassing.</p>
<p>It certainly must be the heat frying Rafe’s brain, because the millionaire suddenly finds himself taking a big carafe filled with ice cold water from the fridge, along with a bowl of freshly cut melon cubes, then picks up a glass before putting everything on a tray and carrying it outside towards the sunlit field. The gardener is still engrossed in his work when Rafe comes to a halt behind him and carefully sets the tray on a tree stump.</p>
<p>He straightens up and clears his throat, almost failing to suppress a snicker when the gardener jumps and turns his head towards him with an arched brow before letting out a huff.</p>
<p>“Geez, you gave me a scare,” he admonishes, but chuckles, eyeing the tray curiously. “To what do I owe the honor?”</p>
<p>Rafe rolls his eyes at the man’s theatrical wording and shrugs. “Well, it’s quite hot out there. I don’t want you to faint on me, or I’ll have to pay for your medical care.”</p>
<p>“Ouch,” the man says in faux-offence and bends down to serve himself a glass of water.</p>
<p>Rafe definitely does not stare as the gardener takes large gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing while a few water droplets trickle down his chin along the alluring slope of his throat and pectorals. Rafe notices with mild surprise that there are a few tattoos on his sunbathed skin, which he can’t help but find even more attractive. They definitely add a nice, mysterious touch to the man’s general roguish appearance.</p>
<p>Before Rafe succumbs to the urge to just stretch his hand out and trace the lines of those tattoos with his fingertips, he quickly detaches his gaze to look up towards a more safer territory, like the man’s honestly gorgeous eyes; which isn’t really any better, because he almost finds himself falling into those warm, brown pools as if pulled into a spell.</p>
<p>“Need something else?” he asks a bit breathily, suddenly feeling hot and constrained in his polo shirt.</p>
<p>The gardener chuckles and lets out a pleased groan - that naturally goes straight down to Rafe’s groin - as he sets the empty glass back on the tray.</p>
<p>“I’d gladly ask for a cig, but I know you don’t like it when I smoke here, so, yeah.”</p>
<p>“Damn straight,” Rafe scoffs and narrows his eyes at the man over the rim of his sunglasses. “Don’t even think of it, Mister Drake.”</p>
<p>“After so many months we’re still hung up on those formalities? Come on, just call me ‘Sam’.”</p>
<p>The man - Sam - casts at Rafe a side-glance with a crooked grin and fishes a melon cube from the bowl, his eyes crinkling, making his crows feet more apparent. This man shouldn’t have the right to look so charming and hot at the same time, Jesus Christ.</p>
<p>Trying to hide the blush that starts creeping up his face, Rafe lets out a dismissive ‘hmph’ and turns away, not quick enough to not notice the way Sam licks his fingers after taking a bite from the cube. <em>Fuck</em>.</p>
<p>“Call me once you’ve finished with these bushes,” Rafe orders over his shoulder as he starts walking - no, fleeing - back towards the terrace. “The california poppies don’t look healthy. We should take a look at them later on.”</p>
<p>“Aye, Captain, let’s rescue those babes,” Sam chirps back at him, and Rafe is already debating if he should run back and kiss the man senseless or strangle him.</p>
<p>He walks faster.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Later that evening, Sam is still roaming leisurely in the garden, packing up his things and doing another check.</p>
<p>Rafe observes him from his comfortable perch in his lounge room, huddled in a fluffy bathrobe after a cold shower, his head leaning against the cool surface of the panorama-window. Sam’s silhouette is far enough for Rafe to be sure that the gardener isn’t able to see him from that distance. Which gives the millionaire ample opportunity to watch him as long as he pleases.</p>
<p>He admittedly feels a tiny smidge of shame at the way he always ogles Sam almost obsessively when he isn’t noticing; but hey, he’s only human, and now he’s gradually resigning himself in the reluctant confession that he has fallen hard for the man, whether he likes it or not. </p>
<p>There is just something alluring and mysterious about Sam. A thrillingly dangerous aura that simply doesn’t fit to a mere gardener. Rafe might be wrong, but his intuition tells him that there’s more to Sam than what appears to the eye; and most of the time his intuition turns out to be right. Besides that, Rafe just likes Sam’s personality and quick wit. He has learned to appreciate their playful banter, and honestly, he has to concede that it has been an eternity since he’s had such a pleasant, easygoing connection with someone. There isn’t this constant pressure to be overly polite, to always measure his words and be on his best behavior, unlike with most people he knows among his circle of acquaintances. With Sam he can just-- <em>be</em>. </p>
<p>He doesn’t even really have any authority over Sam. The man does whatever he wants, though he listens to Rafe’s inputs and respects him despite the occasional snarky remark he throws at the millionaire. In short, Sam isn’t afraid to call Rafe out when he’s wrong, and Rafe appreciates that. It’s truly a breath of fresh air to interact with someone who doesn’t sugarcoat things and actually respects him for who he is, and not what he is…</p>
<p>Though, Rafe is also realistic. At the end of the day, he is still Sam’s boss, and Sam is his gardener. And Rafe pays him. Even if their professional relationship turned into some kind of friendship, it would be clearly unbalanced; unless Rafe interrupts Sam’s contract. But would they continue seeing each other afterwards? Rafe hopes so. Letting such a man slip away would be quite disheartening, Rafe tells himself.</p>
<p>Rafe’s trail of thoughts is cut short when he sees Sam putting his shirt back on, his tattooed skin disappearing behind the fabric. Rafe feels a bit saddened by the sight, but the mental image of Sam’s naked torso has already ingrained itself deeply into his mind.</p>
<p>He can still see him before his inner eye. The warm color of his tanned skin. The sweat, the water droplets, the dirt. It all makes him look-- <em>rough</em> in a tempting way. The scars and tattoos certainly contribute to this fetching appearance. Rafe can see him walking up to him in that swagger of his, smirking at him; a flash of white teeth.</p>
<p>Imaginary-Sam’s muscles ripple under taut skin as he kneels down before Rafe’s reclining form, his big hands placed at either side of Rafe’s body on the armrests, bracketing him. Rafe licks his lips and leans back, subconsciously spreading his legs, letting Sam in between the cradle of his thighs. The action makes the folds of his bathrobe slide apart, revealing more of his pale skin. Rafe is momentarily transfixed by the contrast between their complexions. His breath hitches when Sam places a warm hand on his thigh, slowly pushing the fabric further aside, the calluses of his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake.</p>
<p>Of course Sam’s hands would be rough. Rafe has spent too much time watching those hands in action; carrying gardening utensils, digging the earth, holding flower stems delicately in place, gripping tightly the handle of a lawnmower, veiny fingers flexing. Oh, how deeply Rafe has envied those objects, has wished to be the one being manhandled by Sam’s hands.</p>
<p>“Feelin’ alright babe?” Sam rumbles, making Rafe suck in a breath with a start, his heartbeat quickening, a heat spreading in his cheeks. He feels both embarrassed and lightheaded at the thought of Sam calling him ‘babe’. That’s how he always calls his flowers. Rafe can hear him sometimes talking to them when he thinks that no one's listening. At first Rafe found it a bit childish and sappy; just plain weird for a grown man to act like that. But later on he has started to get used to Sam’s quirks, and by now, he can’t deny anymore that the sight of Sam crooning at flowers is kind of charming and heartwarming.</p>
<p>Rafe finds himself nodding, his heart making a flutter when Sam smiles at him warmly, a dimple appearing behind the scruff of his five o’clock shadow, brown eyes shining with a smouldering glint that makes Rafe’s loins tighten.</p>
<p>“Wanna kiss you,” Rafe blurts out, his voice sounding embarrassingly needy. </p>
<p>He shudders as Sam’s hand wanders up his thigh, dangerously close to his twitching manhood that is hidden behind the curtain of his bathrobe. Sam’s smile grows wider, takes on a seductive, predatory twist.</p>
<p>“Come, lemme taste those lips.”</p>
<p>Rafe’s agreeing moan is cut short by the scalding press of Sam’s lips against his own. Rafe hums into the kiss, his nerve endings turning ablaze with pent up lust. <em>Yes</em>, that’s how he imagines their kiss. Slow and deep. He is convinced Sam must be a good kisser; the sort of man who takes his time exploring his partner, slowly coaxing their lips apart with his own, turning them soft and pliant, trembling with desire.</p>
<p>Rafe can’t contain another needy sound when Sam breaks their kiss, his teeth giving Rafe’s bottom lip a playful nibble before releasing it with a sensual slide of his tongue, making Rafe shiver and feel hot all over again.</p>
<p>“Damn, you’re gorgeous,” Sam breathes reverently, and Rafe wants to snap at him, feeling a mix of embarrassed annoyance and need, but all that comes out of his mouth is a pained moan, his hands holding tightly onto Sam’s broad shoulders as if he’s going to disappear, the pieces of the illusion scattering into the air.</p>
<p>Rafe’s breathing becomes laboured, his chest heaving as he lets Sam push the remaining parts of his bathrobe away, leaving him stark naked and vulnerable under Sam’s piercing gaze, his dark eyes roaming over flushed skin. Feeling bold, Rafe slides one of his legs up and hooks it over one of the armrests of his seat, which leaves him all the more exposed to Sam’s appreciative gaze. He can’t help but feel a certain smug satisfaction at the sight of the man rumbling out a drawn-out groan, his pupils dilating.</p>
<p>“That’s it, let me see you.”</p>
<p>As Sam leans forward and starts planting open-mouthed kisses on Rafe’s inner thighs, large hands roaming over his trembling legs with intent, Rafe lets his own hands trail along Sam’s toned shoulders and arms, exploring the various scars with curious fingers, making Sam hiss in pleasure.</p>
<p>“How long have you been watching me, gorgeous?” Sam asks in a conspiratory manner, his eyes gleaming up at Rafe in playful accusation. “How long have you been keeping this secret?”</p>
<p>Despite this Sam being purely a product of Rafe’s rampant imagination, Rafe can’t stifle the growing shame welling up in his chest as he lets out a derisive grunt.</p>
<p>“Shut up,” he says without any real bite, and Sam chuckles.</p>
<p>“Bossy.”</p>
<p>Before Rafe can voice a snarky retort, Sam suddenly grabs hold of Rafe’s exposed ass cheeks and parts them with a slow drag of his thumbs, his fingers massaging pale flesh as the cool air hits Rafe’s most intimate region, making the millionaire let out a garbled moan. Rafe feels his face becoming flushed with heat, his heart hammering inside his ears as he’s incapable to do anything else than lie there and make embarrassing little noises while Sam starts gently rubbing a calloused finger against his fluttering hole.</p>
<p>“<em>Fuck</em>, you shave down there, gorgeous? All tender and smooth?”</p>
<p>Sam watches with awe as he slides one thumb across Rafe’s hairless taint, drawing tight circles, and Rafe throws his head back with a whimper, his toes curling and uncurling as Sam’s thumb keeps sliding up and down against the sensitive area, making stars burst before his closed eyelids. This man is seriously going to be the death of him.</p>
<p>Rafe actually does shave, but only for practical reasons, since he often feels itchy. He doesn’t know how the real Sam would even react if he’d see him like this. All he has is his own imagination that keeps feeding his mind with vivid images of Sam talking dirty to him while fucking his brains out.</p>
<p>Imaginary-Sam presses a finger against Rafe’s hole, prodding gingerly at it while his other hand reaches for Rafe’s already leaking cock, encircling it with a tight squeeze, making Rafe twitch and whine. “Fuck, Sam…”</p>
<p>“Yeah, come on, babe. Looking so good. Open up for me,” Sam croons and presses against Rafe’s hole with more insistence. “Open up that lil’ rosebud.”</p>
<p>Rafe groans, either in embarrassment or arousal, or both, he doesn’t know. What he definitely knows though, is that his imagination is seriously getting out of hand. He isn’t sure how Sam would exactly talk; if his dirty talk is either endearingly cheesy, downright cringy or more subdued yet sultry. He actually will never know, sadly. But all he wants right now is to come on Sam’s fingers, even if the man in question is just a product of his own imagination.</p>
<p>“Look at you, taking my finger so well.” Sam watches Rafe with hooded eyes as he slides his finger all the way into Rafe’s heat and starts to stroke his inner walls with a gentle back-and-forth movement. “Wanna come inside you. Bet you’d take my cock like a champ.”</p>
<p>Delirious with want, Rafe can only nod jerkily, his whimpers becoming more high-pitched when he feels Sam’s capable finger rub insistently against his sensitive prostate.</p>
<p>“Fuck! Yes, yes. <em>Please</em>, Sam…”</p>
<p>“The noises you make. Listen to yourself.” Sam bends down and trails wet kisses along Rafe’s twitching shaft, which earns him another soft mewl. “Would you let me paint your hole with my come? Wanna feel that pretty rosebud being covered with my seed?”</p>
<p>
  <em>Fucking hell…</em>
</p>
<p>Rafe starts to tremble as though under a fever, a smouldering fire turning his loins ablaze. When Sam suddenly grins at him devilishly before slipping Rafe’s throbbing cock into his mouth, coarse tongue rubbing at his slit, Rafe <em>snaps</em>.</p>
<p>Hot come spurts out of Rafe’s twitching cock as he convulses and moans, his noises muffled by the loud buzzing inside his ears. A breathy whimper slips past his quivering lips as he sags back into the seat and pants at the ceiling, his eyes unfocused. It’s as if he’s in a daze. His chest keeps heaving in an attempt to catch more air, his thighs still wracked by occasional tremors, his skin covered in sweat. Rafe clenches his eyes shut and groans tiredly. <em>Fuck</em>.</p>
<p>He releases his softening cock with a grimace and slowly pulls his finger out of his hole, cringing internally at himself and the mess he has made. Feeling suddenly exposed, he pulls the bathrobe over his shaking frame and huddles back into the cushions, a deep blush turning his cheeks a shade darker. </p>
<p>Now that Rafe’s mind is beginning to clear, the realization of what he has just done comes crushing on him like a ton of bricks, rendering him paralyzed and alone in his guilt. One part of him is still riding on the high of having just experienced one of the best orgasms he’s had in years, but he also can’t bear the thought of looking Sam in the eye the next time they’re going to meet. What Rafe has done is truly embarrassing, and now he doesn’t know if he should slap himself or just bury himself in his bed and never get out.</p>
<p>It is actually sad and pathetic, come to think of it. Here he is, pining after a man who is his fucking gardener and probably won’t ever reciprocate his burgeoning feelings. He’s probably as straight as an arrow. Rafe should start accepting the fact that what he feels for Sam is just a fleeting crush, a mere wishful fantasy of a horny man who hasn’t gotten laid in a while. Rafe has always been content to live a busy life exempt from pointless frivolities that only waste his time, and it isn’t some random man who’s going to shatter his neatly organized life.</p>
<p>With that in mind, Rafe curls up in his seat in a subconscious search for comfort and cautiously turns his head to peek outside, his heart still hammering in his chest.</p>
<p>Predictively, Sam has left the garden, the fields looking eerily pristine as though there hasn’t just been someone wandering in them. Rafe is suddenly overcome by a strangely forlorn feeling, and he quickly clenches his eyes shut and buries his face into the cushion, trying to ignore the pinch in his gut. </p>
<p>He still sees Sam before his inner eye.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Rafe should have known that Sam, that damned perceptive bastard, would notice the subtle shift in his behavior, despite him being extra careful to act as if he hasn’t just literally pleasured himself to the fantasy of Sam shagging him.</p>
<p>To be fair, Rafe does talk less to Sam, hiding behind the excuse that he has some important work to do, like the absolute coward he is. Thus, it shouldn’t surprise him when the gardener becomes a little confused by this sudden change. Rafe really tries not to avoid him - Sam has the talent to act like a literal magnet, pulling Rafe into his range - but alone the thought of having fleeting eye contact with Sam becomes honestly too much to bear.</p>
<p>Rafe desperately tries to ignore the twinge of guilt in his gut when he catches for a brief second the look of sad resignation crossing Sam’s features when he refuses for the umpteenth time to accompany him to the wintergarden for a check-up, telling Sam to go there by himself. It shouldn’t affect him so damn much, but God, does Rafe feel shitty afterwards.</p>
<p>He has the sensation that he has just destroyed the sprouting friendship they shared, which makes him feel even worse.</p>
<p>Rafe doesn’t even try to hide his somber mood anymore when one day Sam walks into the open kitchen to serve himself some water. After all those months they’ve known each other, Rafe has let Sam more and more into his space, which has resulted in Sam being free to stroll around in his kitchen and living room as often as he pleases. The longer Sam has invited himself into his life, the more Rafe notices how lonely he has actually been before meeting him. Everything feels lively and sunny, and it is only now that Rafe realizes how quick he has gotten used to Sam’s comforting presence. </p>
<p>And now he's ruining the little air of reassurance and content that has bloomed among these walls.</p>
<p>Rafe sits at the kitchen island and pretends to read the news on his tablet while Sam opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water. He is hyper-aware of the man watching him as he keeps staring at the screen without really reading anything. The atmosphere is tense and heavy, and suddenly Rafe wants nothing more than to bolt out of the kitchen and lock himself in his study.</p>
<p>He almost jumps when Sam abruptly says, “Hey, uh, you feelin’ alright?”</p>
<p>Rafe makes the error to look up, and his heart stutters when their eyes meet, his mouth going dry. </p>
<p>“Yes… Why?” he asks a bit defensively, to which Sam shrugs nonchalantly.</p>
<p>“Just asking.”</p>
<p>An awkward silence settles between them, making Rafe almost squirm in his seat.</p>
<p>He is about to open his mouth to say something - <em>anything</em> - when Sam moves forward to lean against the kitchen island in front of Rafe and says out of the blue, “It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>There is a brief moment where Rafe just blinks, his brain scrambling to process what Sam has just said. As the information finally starts to dawn on him, his eyes widen, and he stares at Sam in disbelief.</p>
<p>“H-How--?”</p>
<p>Sam actually looks <em>shy</em> as he scratches the back of his head and smiles at Rafe sheepishly. “Well, uh, I just looked it up. Wanted to give you something anyway, birthday or not. So, yeah.”</p>
<p>Speechless, Rafe can only stare as Sam fumbles in the pockets of his overalls and pulls out a tiny cardboard box the size of a clementine. The millionaire feels his heart fluttering as he watches Sam push the package towards him across the kitchen island.</p>
<p>“Happy birthday.”</p>
<p>Still having trouble realizing what’s happening, Rafe gingerly takes the package and weighs it in his hand. It’s very light, and he can hear the subtle rustle of something sliding back and forth when he turns it. </p>
<p>Rafe has trouble finding his words. </p>
<p>There is a slight tremor in his voice when he finally breathes, “Sam, I-- thank you.”</p>
<p>Sam, who has been watching him tensely, lets out a sigh, seemingly relieved, and grins at him, nodding at the package. “Just-- don’t open it ‘til I’m gone. Is a surprise.”</p>
<p>Rafe can’t help but huff, feeling warm inside. “What, are you planning to poison me and make yourself scarce?”</p>
<p>Sam gasps theatrically and places a hand on his chest. “<em>Touché</em>.”</p>
<p>Both men chuckle, and it feels as if a weight has been lifted from Rafe’s shoulders. Gosh, has he missed this. Their banter. Sam’s smile…</p>
<p>Rafe is pulled out of his reverie when Sam clears his throat, suddenly looking nervous again, which Rafe finds oddly endearing. “So, uh… I’m gonna go now. Some buncha stuff to do. See you tomorrow.”</p>
<p>Rafe doesn’t have the time to respond as Sam makes a mock salute and practically speedwalks out of the kitchen. The millionaire blinks after him in confusion, a bit miffed by the man’s strange behavior. Though, his bewilderment quickly gives way to timid excitement as he looks down at the little box in his hands. Rafe wonders what in the living hell has brought Sam to look up his birthday and offer him an actual gift; but he has to admit that it makes him glad nonetheless.</p>
<p>Honestly, Rafe doesn’t give a fuck about his birthday. It’s a day like any other, and most people he knows are mere acquaintances; therefore the best wishes he usually gets don’t really mean anything to him. That’s why it pisses him off whenever he feels pressured to organize a party just for the sake of upholding his reputation amongst the wealthy. It has always felt annoyingly shallow and quite daunting. Rafe can’t remember the last time he was genuinely happy to receive a gift from someone.</p>
<p>Perhaps that’s why Rafe feels like he’s going to faint when he starts opening the box with a hammering heart, just barely containing the spark of hope igniting in his chest. This surely doesn’t mean anything. Surely Sam was just being kind and tried to make amends, since Rafe has been showing him the cold shoulder during the past days.</p>
<p>What Rafe finds makes him pause, perplexed. Inside the box, tucked in a colorful, transparent bag lies a bunch of dozens of greyish, shriveled seeds. He isn’t quite sure about their nature, but they seem familiar, although he can’t really put his finger on it. </p>
<p>Intrigued, Rafe fishes the bag out of its box. A folded piece of paper falls out in the process, and Rafe quickly catches it before it falls on the floor. He hesitates for a brief moment before unfolding it, his hands feeling clammy all of a sudden. He takes a deep breath, bracing himself, then slowly unwraps the paper and starts to read, his heart making a leap when he sees Sam’s cursive, a bit wonky handwriting.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘Those are Borago officinalis seeds. Once they sprout, their stem becomes strong and bristly, and the petals turn into blue, delicate star shapes with a hint of brown. Kind of remind me of you.’</em>
</p>
<p>Rafe can’t help the snort leaving his mouth as he takes in those words, an indescribable warmth settling in his stomach. He has trouble connecting those flowers with himself, not very well versed in their language; but he feels touched by the gesture nonetheless, and he hastily proceeds to read the next letters, feeling giddy.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘Contrary to what you might believe, I’m actually less good at talking than writing, so I’m going to ask you here in this letter: Would you like to have a drink with me sometime?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>-- Sam</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>P.s.: I understand if you don’t want to. Just, please, don’t kill me.’</em>
</p>
<p>Rafe’s mouth goes slack as he reads and rereads the last paragraphs until his vision goes blurry. He feels like his heart is going to burst out of his ribcage. It is as if he’s been pulled into a haze, his head spinning. This is too good to be true. But here are those words, written plainly on paper. Sam is literally asking him out, and Rafe feels like a rug has been pulled from under his feet, making him fall into a whirlwind of jumbling emotions.</p>
<p>“Shit, <em>Sam</em>…”</p>
<p>Suddenly, Rafe wonders how long the gardener has been planning to approach him. Since <em>when</em> is Sam attracted to him? Before even realizing it, Rafe finds himself replaying in his head their past interactions, trying to uncover the telling signs and cues that might have transpired through Sam’s words and body language. There certainly has been the banter, the playful jabs and the shared smiles, but-- has it all been actual flirting all along and Rafe was too dense to pick up on it?</p>
<p>Rafe has the nagging sensation his head might explode, but all the confusion and pent up anxiety is quickly replaced by an exhilarating feeling of relief and euphoria that almost makes him lightheaded. He doesn’t have the decency to feel embarrassed when he barks out a laugh and reads the letter again, grinning from ear to ear at the last written sentences like a love-crazed teenager.</p>
<p>Even on letter, Sam has the talent to make things lighthearted and welcoming, and it makes Rafe feel all the more drawn to him.</p>
<p>As if Rafe’s hands have a mind of their own, they reach for his tablet; and soon afterwards he finds himself selecting Sam’s name in his contact list, opening the message thread.</p>
<p>Without hesitation he types a simple but heartfelt <em>‘Yes.’</em> and sends it.</p>
<p>***</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>